Forming Alliances
by KnightMara
Summary: After two years in the rebellion, Luke learns the true meaning of friendship and trust.


**Forming Alliances**

_By KnightMara_

_A/N: This story files for this story and "Swimming Lessons" apparently disappeared from the server yesterday, so I've had to upload them again. Sorry for the inconvenience, but hopefully, in the process of resubmitting the stories, I have corrected any previously existing glaring errors that I might have missed when I posted the story eight (OMG, eight? Really?) years ago. _

_(To all English teachers and grammarphiles out there, I haven't touched the sentences that end with prepositions. Yes, I see them. But, no, I do not want to restructure sentences in a story I wrote eight years ago. I will take whatever punishment you would like to dole out.)_

_Disclaimer: I own nothing. All you see below belongs to the guy who created the GFFA._

_- - - - - - - - - _

The convoy of rebel ships slowly made its way through the dark silence of space, attempting to evade the Imperial fleet that had driven the rebels out of one hiding place after another. With a handful of contacts hiding out on a fistful of outer rim planets, the rebels hoped to establish a new base sometime in the near future. Mobility, while it kept them from being detected, made rendezvous difficult, especially for the fighter squadrons that were being consistently dispatched for both reconnaissance and decoy maneuvers. Communications had to be kept to a minimum to avoid interception by the Imperials, and codes were becoming increasingly more difficult to keep up with as security tightened to preserve what remained of the Rebel forces. The dire circumstances in which the Rebel Alliance now existed had all but overshadowed the memory of the victory at Yavin only two years earlier. Pessimism and exhaustion now dominated over the optimistic energy that had once characterized the rebels.

This was particularly true for the young lieutenant commander that now flew cover for the convoy with his squadron. Gloved knuckles bumped against his visor as he absentmindedly attempted to rub his bleary eyes. Shaking off his fatigue, he glanced down at his scopes and his chrono simultaneously. So far, no sign of Imps, and only a half-hour to go before Red Squadron flew out to relieve them. It would be none too soon. He had already begun to pick up on the weariness of the other squad pilots as they dully chatted to each other in an effort to keep themselves alert and awake. But even the friendly talk had died down in the last hour to only a few muttered comments here and there followed by groaned replies.

"Everyone still awake out there?" he called out to them.

"Barely," crackled his headset in response. "The only thing that's keeping me going is the thought of a hot shower and a warm bed waiting for me in twenty-nine minutes."

"I hear ya', Zev," agreed another voice, this one only slightly more energetic than the other's had been. The voice clearly belonged to Wes Janson.

"Anyone else seein' stars?" piped in a third voice.

The young commander found himself laughing at one of the oldest jokes in the database. "Can't you think of anything else, Wedge? That joke's older than I am."

"That ship you're flyin' is older than you are," chimed in Janson.

"Yeah, but you're not," Zev teased, "so you'd better watch it before he charges you with insubordination."

"Aw, he'd never do that," Wedge argued. "Would you, Luke?"

Lieutenant Commander Luke Skywalker smirked and answered, "I might if I was tired and cranky enough. So you'd better watch out."

"Yes, sir, Rogue Leader, sir," laughed Wes.

It was during moments like these that Luke really felt the sense of camaraderie that bound the Rogues together. They were a very new squadron, and one that still had not found its niche. In fact, it was still officially a division of Red Squadron, with Luke as second in command to Commander Narra. This suited Luke just fine, as he was still not quite comfortable with the idea of being responsible for the lives of the other men in his command. Only two years ago, he'd been a moisture farmer on a planet that no one but smugglers and pirates had heard of. Only two years ago, he'd been thrust into a new life with the rescue of a princess and a single shot from a borrowed X-wing. Only two years ago, up had become down and right had become left for the boy who'd been a nobody on his home planet but was now a "hero" of the Rebellion. His life had been drastically altered in ways he still could not comprehend. And it was only during moments like these, when conversations drifted back and forth like lifelines between pilots isolated from each other by their tiny crafts and the darkness of space, that Luke felt that he belonged. He could not help but sense the irony in the fact that isolation fostered togetherness, but he refused to question it. To do so would be to admit to himself that despite his status as a hero and a leader, Luke Skywalker was undeniably lonely—not lonely in the sense that he was alone, but lonely through his lack of deep connections to other people. Luke merely assumed that this was a result of the sudden deaths of those closest to him in quick succession two years ago, and the subsequent deaths he'd witnessed in his service to the Alliance. It was hard to from close bonds with others, and it was discouraging to do so if one of you might get killed at any time. This was a war, after all. So you learned to trust one another, but you never let yourself care too deeply. That seemed to be Han's motto, anyway.

A warning trill from Artoo brought Luke's attention back to his instrument panel. "Ship, incoming," he called out to the pilots as he tried visually scanning for the ship that had just appeared on scope. Fully alert now with adrenaline pumping, he ordered, "Stay sharp."

"I see it," Wedge answered, tension in his voice.

"It's headed straight for us!" cried Wes.

Artoo began to shriek in alarm, as Luke checked his instruments. "Can you identify it, Zev?"

"Not yet, but it's definitely too big to be a TIE," the other replied.

Just then, Luke's comm crackled and a familiar voice cried, "You guys the welcoming party?"

Luke's sigh of relief nearly exploded from his lungs. "Solo, don't you knock first?"

"A little jumpy, there, aren't ya', kid?"

Wedge answered first, "We all are, Solo, so count your blessings you weren't blasted into space dust."

Han's voice came back with just a twinge of feigned hurt. "Is that any way to greet your supply carrier? Especially after all that Chewie and me went through?"

"What's the cargo this time?" Luke asked as the Falcon came into clear view.

"Parts, med. supplies, you name it," the smuggler responded. "Plus a death warrant."

"How much?" Wedge asked.

"About double what it was before, to my figuring."

Luke gave an awed whistle. "Jabba's getting pretty desperate?"

"That's a fact, kid."

Wedge's chuckle came loud and clear over the comm. "You sure piss off the wrong people, Solo."

"Lemme guess. Is her worshipfulness after me, too?"

At that, Luke burst out laughing as well. "Not that I've heard." He paused for effect. "Yet. But I did manage to catch something about Reikan demanding to know where those extra credits disappeared to on that last supply run."

"Yeah, whatever," Han dismissively replied. "Hey, I'd love to chitchat, but I've got to dock this baby."

"Got your clearance, Solo," Zev cut in. "Proceed to Bay 9."

"Yes, sir," came Solo's mocking reply.

Before Luke could form a response in his tired brain, another voice crackled through his comm. "Sounds like you boys could use a break."

At the sound of Commander Narra's voice, a wave of gratitude flooded through Luke's body. "You said it, Boss."

"Well, Rogues. We'll take it from here."

"Boss, I've just got to tell ya'," Wes' voice filled the comm, "that that you are truly a beautiful man. And I love ya'."

Luke's lips curved into a tired smile as Narra responded with, "And I've got to tell you, Wes, to get your sorry rear back to the docking bay before I decide to turn back and leave you out here for your remaining twenty minutes."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

As Luke maneuvered his ship back toward the docking bay, Narra added, "Luke, General Reikan needs to see you as soon as possible."

Suppressing the desire to audibly groan, Luke sufficed with a scowl. "Yes, sir." The last thing he wanted to do right now was to meet with Alliance Command. Fatigue had seeped into his bones, and like the rest of the Rogues he'd been run ragged without any sign of a break on the horizon. He hoped Reikan was not meeting to discuss another mission for his squadron. He seriously doubted that he had any more energy in his reserves at this point. Even his meager skills with the Force had ceased to come in handy. Before he'd boarded his ship for today's flight, he'd noted that Wedge and the others looked dead on their feet, and he was pretty sure he didn't look much better.

As soon as he'd docked and disembarked, he strode past the haggard faces of his fellow pilots without a word and proceeded out of the docking bay. Without bothering to shed his flight suit, he headed toward the command center, struggling to keep from tripping over his own weary feet as he passed numerous officers en route. He hoped the news was good.

Entering the command center, he gave as dignified a salute as he could muster, and addressed General Reikan. "You wished to see me, sir?"

"Lieutenant Commander Skywalker," Reikan nodded. "I have new orders for your squadron."

Luke could only hope that he hid his disappointment as Reikan explained.

"We've received word from one of our contacts on the rim of some Imperial activity in that area. Apparently, they seem to be gathering enough ships and troops to set up a permanent garrison on the planet. Your assignment is to fly in and provide some cover for our transport ships until we can get our men out of there."

"Sir, with all due respect," Luke began.

"As you know," Reikan continued, cutting him off, "we've had to assume a defensive posture for some time now, and this latest mission does not seem to indicate any major changes as of yet. However, these men are of vital importance to us, and it is imperative that we get them out."

Luke nodded respectfully. "Yes, sir, but if I may—"

Reikan again broke into his words. "I know your team is exhausted, and therefore I am giving you a full day to rest up before you depart."

"Sir?"

"Our reports show only a small Imperial force there at the moment, and our men can hold there own for some time. I, however, would like to get them out as soon as possible, so that means that that a day of rest is all the time I can spare for your men. And for this, I apologize. But I'm sure you can see the gravity of the situation."

"Yes, sir," Luke replied, unable to hide the weariness in his voice.

"I'm preparing all the data for you so that you may brief your men tomorrow." He ran a critical eye over the young commander. "In the meantime, I suggest you get as much rest as possible while you can."

Luke forced a grateful smile. "Yes, sir." And with that, he was dismissed, and he headed back toward his quarters.

Not yet wanting to face the Rogues with this latest piece of news, Luke meandered through the hallways of the giant Rebel transport. Lost in a haze of fatigue, he was only peripherally aware of the people he passed and greeted in the hallways as his feet plotted a course independent of his brain. Knowing only that he didn't want to head back to his quarters and inform the others of their mission until he'd figured out a way to break the news gently, he was not aware of his destination until he'd reached it.

"Chewie, check to make sure we got all of 'em."

Luke stood in the entranceway to docking bay 9, dully staring at the two familiar forms unloading and double-checking an enormous array of crates in front of the Falcon. A young Rebel officer stood nearby with a datapad, logging in the entire shipment as Han and Chewie continued to scramble about the Falcon's ramp.

"Where's that small crate of medicines I asked you about?" Han yelled to the Wookie. Luke caught the sound of Chewie's howled reply before his friend shouted back, "What do you mean that was my job?"

The rebel officer timidly pointed to a crate at his feet. "Are you referring to this one, sir?"

Han quickly turned and stared at the indicated crate before answering, "Uh, yeah. I guess, that's it." Assuming the Solo charm and illusion of total control, he added, "Guess I must have missed it so many of 'em to keep track of."

The rebel wisely said nothing and merely nodded.

At that moment, Han noticed the young man standing in the entrance, observing the commotion. "Hey, kid! Care to lend a hand?"

Luke shrugged. "Sure," he replied, moving toward the Falcon.

As soon as he'd approached, Han did a double take as he took in the younger man's appearance. "Whoa, kid, you look like you were run over by a hutt."

With a weak smile, Luke replied, "Yeah, I kinda' feel that way, too."

"What've these guys been doin' to ya'?"

"The usual. Fly here, fly there. Shoot these targets, cover these supply ships." Running a weary hand through his hair, he added, "It's nice to be needed, you know?"

Han grinned. At least the kid hadn't lost his sense of humor. "Well, what does her highnessness say about all this?"

Again, Luke shrugged. "Haven't really seen her lately. It's been just a little busy around here."

"I can see that. Any word yet on a possible site for the new base?"

Luke shook his head. "Green flight is out on a scouting mission, and I'm sure it won't be long before we hear from them. But it hasn't looked good."

The young officer stepped in. "Sir, everything checks out. There'll be a hovercart along shortly to remove the crates."

"Oh, yeah," Han said, nodding to the young man. "Well, if anyone needs us, Chewie and me will be on board the Falcon."

"Yes, sir." With that, the officer left, leaving the three friends alone on the Falcon's ramp.

Luke was barely aware of the fact that he was swaying on his feet as he watched the officer go, until a furry arm grabbed his shoulder to steady him. Blinking up into the concerned blue-eyed gaze of the giant Wookie, Luke muttered, "Thanks, Chewie. I guess I'm done for the day."

"You could say that again, kid," agreed Han. "You look ready to fall over."

"You should see the others," Luke half-joked, trying to brush off Han's uncharacteristic attention to his welfare. "Speaking of which, I'd better be getting back to inform them of Rebel Command's latest bit of good news."

Chewie growled questioningly.

"Not another run?" Han demanded. When Luke gave a half-hearted smile and a weary nod, he exclaimed. "Whoa, that's not fair! You guys need a break."

"Don't look at me," Luke said in defense. "I couldn't agree with you more. But High Command says we go, so we go."

Han shook his head incredulously. "Doesn't make good sense to me. Strategically, the last thing I'd want to send out is a group of tired pilots. 'Cause tired pilots make mistakes."

Holding up his arms in surrender, Luke sighed, "You're right. But orders are orders." He rubbed the back of his neck and added, "But since tired pilots make mistakes, I'm going to try to get some rest before then."

As he turned to leave, Han stopped him. "Hey, wait. I've got some minor repairs that I'll be working on for the next few hours, so there's a free bunk on board the Falcon. It'll save you the walk, as well as having to explain things to your buddies when you're all already pretty worn and cranky."

Luke considered it for a moment before his fatigue made up his mind for him. "Thanks, Han."

"Sure thing, kid," Han said, clapping his friend on the back as they made their way up the landing ramp. Once inside, he pointed Luke off in the direction of the bunks. "Right over there. And the 'fresher is to the left."

Finding himself in such close proximity to a place where he could finally rest, Luke was nearly overcome with the desire to simply collapse into sleep right there. He felt Chewie's arm pushing him along as he stumbled toward the bunk and mumbled, "I owe you one," as he climbed in.

He was asleep before his head even hit the pillow.

- - - - - - - -

When Luke finally emerged from the sleeping cabin, he was completely disoriented. He stumbled into the main area of the Falcon to find Han and Chewie seated at the holochess table with a deck of cards and a bottle of what Luke could only guess was a potent Corellian brew of some kind.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," Han laughed at seeing his groggy friend rubbing sleep out of his eyes. "It's about time you got up."

"How long have I been out?" Luke mumbled, taking a seat at the table.

"About ten hours," Han replied, eyeing Chewie suspiciously. "Don't try to pull a fast one, fuzzball. I'm watching you."

Luke was already jumping up and heading for the Falcon's exit, swearing as he ran. "Damn! The briefing! I can't believe you let me sleep that long."

Han turned his attention from the game and his furry co-pilot's hand to holler, "Hey, kid, relax! There is no briefing, so come back here and have a seat."

Luke turned back toward Han, puzzled. "What do you mean, no briefing?"

"Just like I said," answered the Corellian, already returning to his game. "There's no mission, no briefing." He studied his hand and muttered a curse. "That's it. I'm out. See, Luke, you cost me the game 'cause I wasn't payin' attention to what Furface here was doin'." In response to Chewie's triumphant laugh, he added, "And you're just not going to let me live it down, are ya', pal?"

As Han and Chewie proceeded into a friendly exchange of increasingly bad insults, Luke stammered, "B-but . . . how? Who?"

"Her Royal Highness, that's who."

Luke gaped and stared at the Corellian like he'd just grown a second head.

Gathering up the cards as Chewie filled his glass, Han laughed, "Kid, quit standing there like a gasping fish out of water and have a seat." When Luke mutely complied, he explained, "See, I got your Princess to transfer the assignment to another squadron."

"Why?"

Now it was Han's turn to throw a questioning glance at his companion. "Do I have to spell it out for you? Because, kid, after you crashed on my bunk, I went down to the commissary to grab a bite to eat. While I was there, I happened to run into your buddy Wedge. Literally. We bumped right into each other. And the guy looked even worse than you. So I said to myself, unless the Rebellion is purposely trying to get you guys killed out there, they need to give you a chance to recover and let someone else do all the dirty work for you guys for a little while."

"But, Han—" Luke began.

"So I hunted down Her Worship," he continued, cutting the younger man off, "and I explained the situation to her. Of course, she gave me the whole argument about how everything is tight right now and how 'we just can't afford not to use our best men when the situation is so desperate.'" He finished in a falsetto with highly practiced princess-like mannerisms.

Luke was unmoved. "Han, she's right."

"No," the other retorted with a sudden sharpness that startled Luke. "What she was saying, whether she meant to or not, was that this is a war and you guys are expendable."

Luke bit down his shock at the bluntness of Solo's words. Deep down inside, he knew Leia would never think that about his squadron, or about him. But the words still stung. "Han," he whispered. "You don't really believe that."

A raised eyebrow was Han's only response to Luke's comment before he continued. "So I brought her over to the Falcon to prove my point. We must've stood over there by that bunk for a solid fifteen minutes trying to wake you up."

"You what?!"

"It was kinda' fun, actually," Han smirked. "We shook, prodded, yelled — nothin'. I could've shaved your head and painted it purple, and you never would've stirred."

Luke's face was now red with mortification.

"So with that, the Princess finally agreed that you guys were really in need of a few days rest. And your orders got sent to Blue Squadron instead," Han finished with a look of smug satisfaction.

Luke tried desperately to dampen down his rising embarrassment before saying, "And all you had to do was humiliate me. How convenient."

"Hey," Han eased with a lopsided grin, "it's not my fault you wouldn't wake up."

"Yeah," Luke sighed with a self-deprecating laugh. "But I'll never be able to show my face in public again. Or before command. Or Leia."

"At least you'll live to show your face to somebody," Han countered, suddenly serious. "I mean it. You guys were in no shape to fly that mission. Your squadron nearly vaped me yesterday. And I don't think it would have been good for morale if the hero of Yavin got himself killed just short of the two year anniversary."

The younger man just stared down at his feet. "No I guess not," he said at last, without looking up.

Noting the other's dark mood, Han spoke, "Kid, you don't have to keep proving yourself. You're already a hero."

Exasperated, Luke suddenly raised his voice. "That's just it. I'm not tryin' to be a hero. I don't even want to be a hero!"

"Whoa, where'd that come from?" Han asked, startled.

Luke tried to brush off the question with a shrug of his shoulders before lowering his head to his hands in surrender. "Exhaustion, maybe. I don't know. It's just that - -"

"Hey, is anyone in here?" a female voice interrupted, calling from the bottom of the landing ramp.

Han groaned at the Princess's lousy sense of timing. The kid was about to get a load off his chest, and she just had to show up. Of course, he'd been the one to leave the landing ramp down. He turned his head and hollered back sarcastically, "Yeah, we're havin' party. Why don't you join us?"

When Han turned back to look at the kid, Luke had already composed himself into less tired and emotionally ragged human being by all appearances. It was easy to see how the Rebel Command could fail to see the strain he and his command had been under recently. Luke's ability to mask himself neared perfection, and Han often found himself amusedly wondering what kind of Sabaac player he'd make. But it was also disturbing to think that Luke could close himself off to others so easily. What made him especially uncomfortable was the fact that Han had become one of the few people that the kid seemed to really trust or open up to. Luke had been such an idealistic, friendly and trusting person when they'd first met, but the past two years had taken their toll. He had maintained his youthful idealism, but his energy had worn pretty thin, and his relationships with others were few and far between. The friendship with Han mattered a great deal to Luke, which made it difficult for Han to admit that his stay with the Rebellion was only temporary. Sure, he hadn't left yet during the past two years, but he knew it was only a matter of time before he cut the whole Rebellion loose and left them to fight this hopeless war on their own.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Leia said as she took a seat beside Chewie. She glanced over at Luke with a sly grin. "So, did Han keep poking at you, or did you eventually wake up on your own?"

A slight blush crept into Luke's cheeks before Han retorted, "Hey, I'm not as sadistic of some of these generals of yours."

Leia became indignant. "It was a simple oversight. They would never intentionally overemploy the same group of fighters."

"Lady, you're talkin' about people, not equipment," Han quickly snapped back.

"Han, I would never—"

"When you two are finished bickering," Luke cut in, rising from his seat, "I'll be in the mess hall." He was growing increasingly irritated with his friends' constant arguing, and his growling stomach was all the motivation he needed to get out of there.

Leia rose and reached out an arm to stop him. "No, wait, Luke. I'll leave." She shot Han a harsh glance before continuing, "I just wanted to make sure you were all right."

"I'm fine, Leia," Luke answered, pulling her hand away from where it rested uncomfortably against his chest, over his pounding heart. "But I really am very hungry."

Again, placing herself in his path before he could move, she spoke. "Luke, I just wanted to you to know that I'm sorry. I didn't know what was going on. If I had—"

Resting his hands on her shoulders in reassurance, he stopped her. "We've all been busy. It's okay." Turning toward his other companions at the table, he said, "See ya' later, Han. Chewie."

"Sure, kid."

Chewie growled in farewell, and Luke quickly headed out of the Falcon.

- - - - - - - -

Loaded down with a tray full of food, Luke scanned the tables for other members of the Rogues. One of them found him first.

"Hey, Luke!" Wedge exclaimed as he rushed up to meet him. Apparently, he'd gotten some rest, but still not enough, judging from the circles under his eyes. "Where've you been? We've been looking everywhere for you."

Luke gave an embarrassed smile. "Asleep on the Falcon," he replied. "Why? What's up?"

"Wes is in the infirmary, that's what."

Luke quickly set his tray on the nearest table. "What?"

Wedge cocked his head ambiguously and explained, "He decided to get some rest, went to sleep, and woke up two hours later with a fever and chills."

"You're kidding."

"Nope. Medic says it's just a bad cold, his body's way of telling him to take a break, and he'll be fine. But he's out of commission for a few days. Meaning we're short one pilot."

Luke took a seat and ushered Wedge to do the same. "Well, don't sweat it. We're all on break for a few days."

"You serious?"

Luke nodded.

Wedge would have jumped up on the table in delight if he'd had the energy. Instead he settled for a broad smile. "How'd you swing that?"

"By not waking up when the Princess paid a visit."

Wedge started to laugh, and then, realizing that Luke was being serious, began to guffaw rather loudly.

"Okay, you can stop laughing now," Luke murmured when he'd had enough.

"I'm sorry," Wedge managed between giggles. "I guess that was as effective a strategy as any."

"It got us a break, didn't it?"

Wedge burst into another fit of laughter before he replied, "Well, in that case, I'm going to go get some sleep myself."

"Be sure to tell everyone the good news, will ya'?" remarked Luke with a smile. "And don't leave out any details on my behalf."

Wedge gave a mock salute. "Sure thing, Boss."

Luke watched him go before he was startled by the sudden appearance of a figure sitting directly in front of him.

"Thought you said you were hungry, kid," Han remarked, indicating Luke's uneaten tray of food.

Luke looked down at his tray and quickly snatched up his fork. "I was informing Wedge of our vacation," he replied before shoveling food into his mouth. "I thought you were busy arguing with Leia," he added once he could speak again.

"I was, but her Worship wouldn't hang around long enough to make it worthwhile."

"You know, you really should give her a break, Han," Luke countered between bites. "She's really been under a tremendous amount of pressure. Here she is, a leader of the Alliance, one of the few survivors of Alderaan, and she's only my age. That's a lot to deal with."

"Not to mention the fact that you're losing, kid," Han appended.

Luke's expression darkened. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly, lowering his fork. It was a moment before he spoke again. "So just go easy on her, okay?"

"Sure, kid," the other answered, watching as Luke played with the remaining food on the tray, no longer interested in eating it.

Luke wasn't sure why, but somehow Han's comment had eliminated his appetite. Sure, he knew that the Alliance had been on the losing side for a while now, but he'd figured it was only a temporary state of affairs. Sooner or later they'd have to gain the advantage again. They simply had to. The Empire couldn't continue to enslave the galaxy. It had to lose. It was evil, and the Alliance was good. Pure and simple. At least that's what he'd told himself repeatedly over the past few months.

But hearing Han voice what he'd been trying to push back in his mind had stirred something in him. That, and the fact that Han had referred to the Rebels as "you" and not "we."It was as though he'd already given up on them and was on his way back to playing mercenary for hire. Luke couldn't explain why this bothered him, but it did.

"Something on your mind, kid?"

Han's quietly spoken question brought Luke's gaze up from his tray, but he didn't answer. He wasn't sure how to answer.

"You seem, I dunno," Han pressed, searching for the right word, "troubled. And don't tell me it's tiredness, 'cause I know you better than that."

Luke only stared back at his companion, unable to answer. There was a desperate and frantic voice inside that was pressuring him to simply open up, to unburden himself by telling Han all of the crazy things that had been going through his mind lately. He felt as though if he didn't, he'd certainly end up going insane. But by the same token, he felt strangely guarded in the same desperate manner. Part of it was self-preservation through independence, and part was that he simply didn't want Han to look down on him. For Force's sake, the man already called him "kid." Even Leia seemed to treat him more like a little brother than her knight in shining armor. What good would it do him to break down and lean on his friends for support? Weighing the matter, he decided: nothing.

Feeling torn and tense and unable to speak, he rose from the table and quickly made an exit, leaving a half-eaten tray of food and a concerned Corellian in his wake. And as the dust storm of emotions swirled within him, Luke hurriedly walked to the one place he knew he could turn to for control.

"Hi, Artoo," he greeted the domed Astromech droid as he entered the maintenance hangar. After Artoo's whistled return greeting, he pointed to his X-wing. "How's she doing?"

"Uh, we finished maintenance on her about an hour ago, sir," spoke a timid voice from behind. Luke spun around to see a young technician nervously wiping his soiled hands on a rag. "I was just about to send your droid out to get him cleaned up. Sorry it's taken so long, but—"

"No worry," Luke quickly assured him. "I just came in here to find something to keep busy." When the tech gave him a puzzled look, Luke explained, "We've got a man in the infirmary and are currently on orders to rest, so I'm a little bit edgy. Too used to scrambling about, I suppose."

The tech gave a knowing smile. "I know what you mean sir. It's been a bit frantic around here as well."

Luke smiled back at him, patting Artoo's domed head. "Well, then, if you don't mind, I'll get to work on Artoo, here, myself."

"Are you sure, sir?"

"Yes," replied Luke, biting back the urge to laugh at the tech's incredulous gaze. "I spent most of my life cleaning droids. It's something I'm very accustomed to."

"Very well, sir," the tech nodded before hurrying away toward several other ships.

Luke quickly located some cleaning solution, tools, a clean rag, and a comfortable crate so sit on, and got to work. He always found that working with his hands relaxed him, especially if he could completely immerse himself in the task at hand. Cleaning a droid wasn't exactly like repairing a busted Skyhopper, but it was enough to keep him busy and take the edge off of his mood.

"Boy, Artoo," he murmured to the little droid in front of him. "I haven't seen you this bad since you crashed on Tatooine." The astromech beeped in reply, but with out a translator, Luke was unable to decipher the comment. "Where's Threepio when you need him?"

He continued working until he'd managed to get Artoo looking cleaner than he had in years. No doubt it was because no one in his right mind would spend as much time scrubbing down an astromech as Luke had just done. Feeling tiredness creeping back into him, he wiped his hands on fatigues before sighing, "I guess that's the best I can do for you right now."

Artoo uttered a beep that sounded amazingly concerned and sympathetic for an electronic whistle, and Luke wondered if he was imagining things.

"If you're saying I should get some rest, I think I'll take your advice."

To Luke's amusement and surprise, the droid made a satisfied sounding whistle before rolling away. Luke watched him go with a smile and then turned around to see who it was that he sensed standing several yards away, watching him. "Hi, Chewie."

Chewie began walking toward the crate he was sitting on, and Luke rose to meet him. As soon as they'd reached each other, Chewie gave Luke a gentle pat on the head and a concerned growl.

Luke was able to barely discern the wookie's dialect and replied, "Well, I guess I really should go back and apologize to Han, huh?"

Chewie rumbled his assent and pulled Luke into a big furry hug.

"Yeah, I know you guys are worried about me," Luke protested through Wookie hair, "but I'm fine. And I promise I'll talk to Han."

Chewbacca finally released him and steered him out of the maintenance bay. As they walked, Luke added with amusement, "Besides, I know better than to argue with a Wookie."

Chewie gave the Wookie equivalent of a chuckle and pushed Luke toward the Falcon.

As they entered, Luke could hear the muttered curses of the Corellian smuggler from somewhere in depths of the ship. It would seem that the Falcon was once again in need of repairs that weren't going as smoothly as its captain would hope.

"Is that you, Chewie?" Han's voice called out.

Chewie gave an affirmative reply.

"Well, make yourself useful and toss me a hydrospanner."

Chewie nodded to Luke who walked over and picked up the tool from the repair kit. Crouching over the maintenance hatch in which Han was sprawled on his belly doing repairs, he handed him the tool. Without looking away from the jumbled wiring of multiple "modifications," Han reached back and grabbed the hydrospanner out of Luke's hand.

"Thanks, Chewie."

"No problem."

At Luke's voice, Han started up in surprise. Moving too quickly in the confined space of the maintenance hatch, he smacked his head against one of the pipes.

"You okay?" Luke asked, careful to hide his desire to smile in amusement at the scowl on Han's face.

Han merely growled in reply, rubbing the top of his head before focusing on his repairs once more.

Luke frowned. "I just came by to apologize for earlier. It was wrong for me to walk out like that."

Silence followed. Luke looked toward Chewie for suggestions, but the Wookie only stood a few feet away looking nonplussed at the situation.

"You gonna' just sit there or are you gonna' help?" Han's voice asked from deep within the crawlspace.

Smiling, Luke answered, "What do you need?"

"About two feet of cable and those mounts next to your feet."

Luke readily complied, and for the next hour the two men worked side by side on the temperamental ship, trying to get her back up to peak performance. By the time they were finished, both men were covered in a layer of sweat and grime that did little to mask the satisfied smiles on both of their faces.

"Well, that should do it," Han remarked, studying the repairs they'd made as they sad side by side on the deck. "She should hold up for a while now."

Luke laughed. "I'll give her two weeks before you're crawling around patching things up. One if Leia sends you on another supply run into the core before then."

"Watch what you say about her, kid," Han retorted with a scowl. "She's gotten all of us out of a lot of trouble."

"Who? Leia or the Falcon?" Luke tried to quickly duck the smack to the head that was Han's response to his joke, but he wasn't fast enough. "Ow," he groaned, laughing as he rubbed his head.

Han just ignored him and leaned forward. "You ready to get up off the deck?"

"Nope," answered Luke. "I'm too tired to move. You're just gonna' have to leave me here, bring me food once in a while."

Han groaned and rose to his feet. Then he extended an arm down to help Luke up. Ignoring the younger man's protests, he hauled him up to a standing position and then led him over to the chess table.

Luke let out a very undignified "Ooof," as he plopped into a seat and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. "That's more repair work I've done today than I have since Uncle Owen asked me to work on those moisture vaporators."

"Well, here's to a job well done," Han intoned, setting a mug down on the table in front of his companion.

Opening his eyes, Luke reached for the mug and took a greedy gulp. Before he knew it, his throat was burning and his eyes were watering. Choking, he looked up at Han and asked hoarsely, "Whoa, what is this stuff?"

"The best rum in the galaxy," Han answered, not bothering to hide his amusement.

"Lemme guess: Corellian, right?"

Han nodded and downed his own mug.

Resolving himself to taking sips instead, Luke watched as Han refilled his own mug and then glanced around curiously. "Where's Chewie?"

"He's running a few diagnostics on the shield generators."

"I thought you said you were finished," argued Luke.

Han took another deep swallow from his mug and explained, "With the hyperdrive, yeah. But Chewie's gotta' make sure those shields are up to specs."

"Ah." Luke continued to sip on his drink and soon found himself feeling a little giddy.

"Good stuff, huh?" Han asked with a grin.

"Mmm-hmm," Luke agreed with a slight giggle. "Although I probably shouldn't be drinking this on a near-empty stomach."

"Speaking of which," Han began, switching tone, "you gonna' explain to me what that little episode was earlier today?"

Setting down his mug, Luke shook his head dismissively. "Things have just been weird, you know?"

"How weird?"

Sighing with the realization that he wasn't going to get out of this, Luke stared off at an undistinguished piece of paneling, trying to gather his thoughts. They were hazy enough without the effects of the alcohol, but he struggled to bring them into some semblance of coherence. "It's like the hero thing. It just doesn't feel right. Like it's a costume I've put on that just doesn't fit but I can't get out of it. So instead, I try to change myself, to make me fit the costume, and it's just making everything worse." He paused.

Han's silence urged him to continue.

"Earlier you said that I didn't have to prove myself because I was already a hero. But you were wrong. I have to keep proving myself because I am a hero. I blew up the Death Star, so they put me in command of a squadron of fighters. I got promoted ahead of all these guys who've been fighting in this war for a lot longer than I have, and now I have to prove to them that it wasn't just a lucky shot. That I am capable of being in charge, of being responsible for their lives out there. But the truth is I don't know if I am a good leader. Most of the time, I don't even know what I'm doing. And it scares me that these guys are counting on me to make sure they make it out alive."

"Kid, I'd worry about you if you weren't scared," Han soothed.

"But there's more," Luke went on. "I know you don't believe in the Force, but you have to hear me out on this one." This wasn't going to be easy.

Han looked skeptical, but agreed.

Luke took a deep breath. "Ever since I tapped into it, to fire that shot, things have started to change, and I don't know what's happening to me because there's no one I can ask who would understand." When Han looked totally bewildered, he continued, trying to explain. "Han, I can sense things. People, sentient beings. It's hard to explain, but lot's of times I'll know someone's coming before they get there. And not only that they're coming, but also who they are before I can even see them or hear them. Especially people I'm close to, like you and Leia and Chewie. It's like you have your own Force . . .fingerprint. An impression that's yours and yours alone."

Han began to disagree, "Luke, a lot of smugglers can—"

"No," Luke nearly shouted, silencing with his insistence. "It's different, Han. Trust me. And even if you're argument is correct, it wouldn't explain what's been happening to me up in my X-wing." He took a deep breath. "I'm having a harder and harder time making shots up there. And it's not a matter of skill." He paused, getting that distant look in his eyes that always seemed to give Han the chills, although he could never explain why. When Luke spoke again, it was in a whispered voice that was barely audible and seemed to quake just a bit. "I can sense the others that I'm fighting. I can feel it when they die, as though a candle is suddenly put out, but you feel the pain. And I can't stop it from happening. I have a job to do, but it's getting harder to do it because I'm feeling too much. It's like I've suddenly opened the door to all of this power inside me, and I don't know how to stop the flow when I need to."

Luke lowered his gaze, unable to meet Han's stare. He knew that Han probably didn't understand his problems with the Force, might not believe him anyway, and more than likely thought he was crazy. But right now, it didn't matter. The rum had weakened his defenses, and now he felt that he needed to pour everything out or risk exploding under the intensity of his feelings.

"Han," he continued, "I feel lost. And alone. Ben taught me about the Force, showed me how to feel it, but now he's gone, and there's no one left to show me how to control it. All I wanted when I left Tatooine was to become a Jedi like my father, but now I don't see how that can ever happen when there's no one left to teach me. It's not something I can learn by myself. Believe me, for the last two years I've tried. And it seems the more I try, the harder it gets to separate myself from it." He again paused, trying to put his next thought into words. "And I keep wondering what I could have done to save him. To save Ben."

He suddenly realized he was trembling, and worse, that he couldn't seem to stop it.

Han reached over to lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Luke, there was nothing you could have done. He did it on purpose, to buy us time to get out of there."

"But why?" Luke's plaintive question hung in the air for a moment before he added, "Why did he leave me? I can't do this on my own. I can't become a Jedi. I can't avenge all those deaths. My family, my teacher, my friends." His voice caught in his throat. "And I never even mourned them." He laughed bitterly. "Two years and I never took the time to mourn them. What kind of person does that make me?"

Han gave his friend's arm a reassuring squeeze. "A survivor in the middle of a nasty war."

Swallowing against the painful tightness in his throat, Luke mused, "It's got to be worse for Leia. She lost everyone she ever loved. Her whole planet. And still it doesn't show. She's never broken down, never lost control."

"That's not true," Han corrected.

Luke looked at his friend questioningly. "What do you mean?"

"I've seen her. When she thinks she's alone and no one can see. I spotted her one time, at that last base, sitting beside that big lake. She didn't know I could see her, but I did. You'd have thought that lake would have flooded from the amount of crying she did."

"I never knew," Luke mumbled absently.

"I kept an eye on her for a few days after that. Just to make sure she was holding together okay."

That admission brought Luke's eyes up to his friend's in surprise. "Really?" Luke couldn't imagine Han caring that much for anyone, let alone the Princess.

Han shrugged nonchalantly. "Yeah, well, we couldn't have the leader of the Rebellion going to pieces, now. That wouldn't be good."

Luke knew it was an act, but he accepted Solo's explanation without question. "Thanks," he said. "Thanks for looking after her."

With his characteristic lopsided smirk, he quipped, "Well, don't forget, I'm looking after you, too, kid." As if realizing he'd said something he hadn't meant to, he added quickly, "Can't have the hero of the Rebellion going to pieces either. Or getting blown to pieces, for that matter."

Luke managed a half-hearted smile. "Yeah." Feeling a little more in control, he asked, "So, you don't think I'm crazy?"

"Oh, I think you're crazy all right," Han joked. But seeing Luke's disappointed face he amended, "But no more crazy than the rest of the guys up here." When Luke's expression seemed to brighten a bit, he ventured to ask, "So, feeling any better?"

Luke thought a moment before replying. "I guess, so. It felt good to get all that off my chest."

"Good." Han gave the younger man's shoulder a pat. "And remember, kid, you've always got a friend here on the Falcon if you need one."

Luke wasn't quite sure what to make of Han's statement. That was the first time Han had ever referred to them as "friends," even though they'd been through a lot together these past two years. For a moment, he just sat there, staring at Han until the older man finally shifted under the other's disbelieving gaze.

"Yeah," Han teased. "Chewie's a great listener."

Feeling the subtle shift in tone, Luke quipped back, "Well, then why have I been sitting here wasting my time talking to you?"

The two men laughed briefly before settling into a comfortable silence. After some time, Luke finally rose.

"Well, ol' buddy, I'm going to get cleaned up, and then I'm gonna' take advantage of my 'vacation' and get some serious rest." He finished what was left in his mug and patted Han on the shoulder as he passed.

"Take it easy, kid. And sleep fast."

Luke smiled back at him and was almost to the exit when Han called back to him.

"Don't forget what I said, either."

Turning around, Luke responded, "I won't. And don't worry," he added with a wink. "I won't tell anyone we're friends. Would hate to ruin your reputation as a loner."

And with that, he ducked out the door, leaving Han to sip his rum and wonder how he'd gotten himself into this mess.


End file.
